According to the reports, Professor Shih and 22 of his students were camping on the beach the evening of June 22. They spent the whole night barbecuing, playing poker, and drinking liquor and beer. A good time was had by all. But around 4 a.m., four of his students audaciously crossed four security lines on the beach to go swimming. They had no idea how cold the water would be. Within minutes, their body heat dropped and they started struggling for survival. Some of their classmates noticed them and began yelling for help.

Shih, 42, immediately jumped into the chilly water with a life buoy and managed to save his students by pushing the buoy towards them. Unfortunately, he became a victim of his heroic rescue attempt. His heart failed due to the combination of liquor-induced high body temperature and the cold water. When Shih's 73-year-old mother went to the morgue a few hours later, the four students tearfully prostrated themselves on the ground and begged for her forgiveness. The grieving mother did not blame them at all.

Shih, a brilliant drama professor who obtained his M.A. from prestigious Yale University, lost his life because of a careless impulse of others. It is a big loss to his mother, students, and society. My heart ached tremendously when I read the whole story.

Master Cheng Yen hopes that we Tzu Chi members will serve our neighbors, and so I have been volunteering as a security commissioner for my community managerial council for the past eight months. My main duty is to supervise the guards as they carry out the security programs in our apartment complex of over 700 households. When I returned home the evening of July 16, the council manager reported to me that one of our neighbors, Ms. Lin, wanted to review all the tapes recorded by the surveillance cameras over the last month. The request sounded peculiar to me at first, but then the manager explained that Ms. Lin was Professor Shih’s girlfriend, and she hoped to catch some glimpses of Shih going in and out of the elevators and entrances to our community prior to the tragedy. She hoped to record these images on a tape for herself.

On the evening of July 18, I invited Ms. Lin for a talk in our community lounge. I asked her to tell us the specific dates that Shih came to visit her so that we could narrow down our search for the images.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“I can’t believe he left so suddenly,” replied Lin in tears. “I just hope I can piece together every image and memory I have of him.”

Feeling deeply for her loneliness, I told her, "I understand, but perhaps you could also do something more positive rather than losing yourself in an abyss of reminiscence." I suggested that she visit Shih's mother frequently since it was miserable for an elderly parent to bury her child alone. Furthermore, the self-reproach and deep sense of guilt felt by the four students might be ten times more unbearable than her own suffering. "They might need your consolation and comfort badly," I said.

"We can only use our bodies temporarily," I added, “but our wisdom life can last forever. Professor Shih's talents and achievements in directing operas and dramas will be forever etched in our minds. The great times you two spent together will never be erased by anyone else.”

I also shared one of Master Cheng Yen's aphorisms with her: "When the living can maintain a peaceful mind, the spirits of the deceased can be serene." I pointed out that Shih's spirit might not be as serene as she hoped since someone he loved was still creating a hard time for herself. "You should try to release your anguish as if you were releasing the cords of a kite. Once you do it, Professor Shih can freely fly to his next life like a kite."